


Freeze!

by qaolu



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:07:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qaolu/pseuds/qaolu
Summary: Eddie Diaz joins the college improv club.
Relationships: Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson/Karen Wilson, Maddie Buckley & Howie "Chimney" Han
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for the repeated mention of the musical "The Music Man", but you don't have to know it to get the basics of their conversation surrounding it, lol. Enjoy!

Eddie freezes, stuck in the awkward pose of being on his knees. He looks upwards at Buck, waiting for the owner of the voice to switch places with them. Chim smashes him over the shoulder with an enthusiastic hand, then gets on the same limbs to take over his coveted partnership. 

"Ouch," Eddie winces, running away from the scene to join the others in the awkward circle. 

And...begin. 

"Please, I'm praying right now that you will spare me," Chim mockingly starts, clasping his hands together, "I'm a good Christian woman." 

"Ma'am, this is a supermarket," Buck scoffs, stepping back, "I don't think your religion matters here." 

Hen snorts, entertained at where everything is heading. 

"I'm in the church of the flying spaghetti monster and this is his domain...the pasta aisle," Chim wanders up, reaching out to mummy-walk over to an imaginary structure. 

"I-" Buck doesn't even squeak out a reply before Professor Nash, glisten in his eyes, calls out "Freeze!" 

The teacher hops up on the stage, moving past the others and tapping out Buck. "Let's not get too silly here, guys. We can't let Diaz know this club mostly consists of nonsensical rambling and compromising positions,” he chuckles, stopping them all momentarily, "You having fun, Eddie?" 

The newest member of the ensemble nods. 

"Pastafarians are a valid faith and I'm offended you think otherwise, professor," Chim retorts, flapping his arms down to move from the rigid stance. 

"For the last time, Chim, it's Bobby to you. Cut that out or I’ll start calling you Howard," Professor Nash jokingly threatened. "That’s enough for now, everyone. This game of freeze is done." 

"Whoo!" Hen clapped, "Jesus christ, Buck, thought you were gonna lose your shit when the new kid fell to the floor." 

His face slightly flushed, Buck regained his composure, "Thought he didn't know how to play even though we explained it to him. Thought he was going to sink to the floor in defeat after witnessing my amazing acting skills." 

"You wish," Eddie chimed, sensing the vibe. "This isn't my first time doing improv, man. I catch on quick." 

"Show us then," Buck wagged his finger, "Let's play park bench. I wanna see how creative you can get." 

Bobby shortened the ordeal with a stopping motion, "Listen, guys, I think our time is up for today. If we run any over again, the musical director will have my neck for interrupting." 

They all groaned in response, but with a scatter, slid from the stage to grab their things. Eddie Diaz had been entertaining joining an improv club since a shit-eating-grin from Evan Buckley over an interest meeting table caught his attention. The younger, a sophomore, found humor in the way Eddie had swerved away from an eager representative trying to get him to join the cooking club. He had dodged with the power of a thousand men who knew that culinary expertise was not their fortes, coincidentally bumping into the humble spot for Professor Nash's improv club perched by the end of the sanctioned college event. A criminal justice major, he definitely never considered acting as a career path, just something fun he did in high school. These kind of shenanigans, however, he could get used to. 

"Better hurry before the police come," Hen teased, tossing a glance towards the clock. "We know they enforce the rules tough." 

"That's not the point," said Bobby, collecting his laptop, "If Professor Bosko catches me here when the instrumental fanfare starts, I'll need the coroner's office instead.” 

The small bunch, simply a group of friends who had wrestled their favorite professor into hosting an extracurricular activity to goof off through various improv games every Wednesday, enjoyed the addition of Eddie. 

"Next week my sister will be here," Buck added, stirring the older out of his thoughts, "She has to study for a nursing exam tonight." 

"Cool," Eddie flashed some teeth, filing out down the theater rows, "Uh, that who you were talking about?" 

A gorgeous woman stood by the entrance, waving upon being noticed. Bobby gleamed. 

"Just on my way out," he kissed her on the cheek. 

Chim noticed Eddie's confusion. "The head of security and Nash's fair lady, the almighty Athena Grant." 

"And don't you forget it," Athena sharpened, "Okay kids, scram. She didn't call me but I know she will." 

They snuck out the exit of the Black Box theater, catching the cold wind chills as winter greeted them harshly. 

Buck turned to Eddie, letterman jacket over his arms in an attempt to fight the weather, “So what’d you think? I know it’s small, we haven’t been exactly approved by the school board yet. Nash just thought a spot at the activities fair would be a good way to find new people. The more members, the faster we can put on a show or something,” he smoothed down the little hair atop his mostly shaved head. 

“Pretty cool, I think,” Eddie shifted the bag on his back, “What major are you?” 

“Theater,” Buck laughed, “Didn’t see that one coming, right?” 

“Pretty sure that’s not what he is,” Hen added, hopping into the outside conversation, “I peg you as the casual type.” 

“You’d be right there,” the other took a seat on the stone divider perched by the garden, “Criminal justice. Just got back from being stationed overseas...thought I’d go to school to give myself an even better shot at things.” 

“You’re basically already a cop,” Chim scoffed, “But colleges love their veterans.” 

Bobby and Athena had sauntered over to the student center, leaving the group to their own devices. The biting frost nipped at the heels of each residual person’s body, caressing uncovered skin with the power of a thousand breezes. 

“Not a cop,” Eddie reiterated, “Firefighter.” 

“Could never do that, bro,” Buck shrugged, “Acting is in my Buckley blood. Maddie is a nursing student, but she got me into it first. You have to see her next week. She can cry on command.” 

“It’s kind of hot, honestly,” Chim says, only to receive a smack from her brother. 

“Same time then?” Hen gleamed, slinging an arm around Eddie, “You gotta show us more moves. Make Buck go on his knees next time.” 

“I can’t believe we did a scene starting from a zombie crawling on the ground to a woman who apparently identifies as a Christian and a Pastafarian,” Buck bypasses Hen’s comment’s sexual innuendo to reflect on the rapid change which occurred over the simple improv game. 

“Hey, life’s complicated,” Eddie chuckles, separating from the group to stalk over towards the dorms. 

“Later, Diaz!” Chim calls. 

The man in question is stunned at the seamless integration of their personalities as he checks his phone, shuffling feet fast to get to the warm, inviting destination of shitty temporary housing. The time is a little past five, but he has homework. The rest of the night will consist of decoding his chicken scratch notes from criminal investigations class, as well as analyzing the forensics lab work. Although it’s hard, anything is better than being in a foreign country where the background noises consist of different people dying set to the soundtrack of his own panicked screams. Medically gifted, he still finds it hard to close his eyes at night without seeing the effects of what happens when he can’t fix someone’s wounds. This is, of course, while he neglects his own. Reflective moments often happen on a long campus walk. 

His roommate, Michael, barely noticed him upon return. An architecture major, their interactions mainly consisted of short phrases exchanged over the glow of a computer screen boasting a building simulation program. He kicks off his shoes, sighing before plopping down on a bed that may not be the most comfortable, but is better than the army bunks. 

After a night of studying, Eddie had kind of forgot about the improv club. It was only when a phone notification flashed that he remembered, oh shit, I did join a club the other day. 

Hey new guy, you free? I’m bored, and Maddie went out with Karen and Hen. I want to run lines for my musical theater course but am sick of hearing my own voice do two parts. 

Eddie reads the text from Buck, lost completely on who Karen is, but figures he could use a break in the early hours of the morning light. He changes out of old boxers and pulls a denim button up over the white muscle shirt the bed had embraced him in all night, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

Sure. Black Box? Eddie types. 

Surprised you remember the names of buildings already. Took me a whole semester to find the campus gym because they had it named in honor of some old guy who died after donating, is the reply he gets next. 

They meet at the front, Buck looking antsy with a huge binder in tow. With a raised eyebrow, Eddie surveys his nervousness. 

“You good?” he asks, running fingers through bedhead hair. 

“Definitely. I just normally don’t dance for other people until I’m confident enough to show the president,” Buck answers. He looks uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. 

“You’re dancing?” Eddie teases, “I thought acting was your thing.” 

“Of course, but this class needs me to sing and dance. Prepare yourself mentally, it’s from The Music Man. Which is, in my opinion, an awful show.” 

“Please tell me you’re Harold Hill,” Eddie howls, “I barely know you, but you’re a hotshot. That has to be who you’re going for.” 

“Better than Marcellus, the sidekick,” he counters, “You can help me as the different townspeople before and after the ‘Trouble’ Reprise. I need to practice that as well as before the song Seventy-Six Trombones...or you could do the scene preceding it, which is ‘Goodnight My Someone’ as Marian the librarian.” 

“I don’t care,” the other yawns, striding past him to find shelter in the building opposite them, “Whatever you need. Chim couldn't help?” 

“Nope, he’s in class.” 

They enter the desolate area, witnessing the giant stage that is a part of the Clark Center, only separated by a couple doors which lead directly to the hallways and classrooms outside. At seven, no one is using the space, because the classes operating at this time typically stay inside their respective rooms. Professors get lazy, even when the tools are given. Black Box Theater might not be the nicest, but it is a step above a high school auditorium. Eddie wonders why, on a Thursday, the whole establishment seems abandoned. 

Buck reads his mind. 

“No one comes here until around nine,” he says, “For a regular college, the arts aren’t super respected. Most of this building is for fine arts, not performing; regardless, they prioritize sports.” 

“Unfair,” Eddie nonchalantly reacts, hopping up the side staircase. “The lights are on, though?” 

“I know which buttons do what,” Buck gives a thumbs up, “Now, let’s get down to business. You want to do the scene or the last couple parts of the song before it happens?” 

“Your class,” he gestures, “I’m just curious how you sound singing.” 

“Time to find out,” Buck warms up his vocal cords, stretching a bit. 

Shifting closer, Eddie views the laminated pages of the script, ignoring the highlighted parts to read the others. He recites rather plainly, still groggy from sleep, as they go back and forth. Buck’s voice drops a couple octaves when he sings, a smooth transition from a main character intonation to a commanding musical presence. He does an acapella rendition following the rapport between Harold Hill and the townspeople. When he finishes, Eddie claps. 

“Not too shabby, Buckley,” he praises, “But as you were singing, I checked...Marianne’s song is end of scene four. What you just did is the end of scene five. Did you just want me to serenade you as the love interest? Because I am not singing for you,” Eddie, slightly teasing yet accusing gently in the process, points to the section of the bound book for reference. 

“Was testing your knowledge of the show,” Buck sticks his tongue out, “Nah, it’s just the girl who is supposed to do that part dropped the class. We all got assigned a couple roles to run through the meat of the play with the most famous songs, but she dipped last minute. The one I did is arguably the most well-known.” 

“Yeah, after the part that no one cares about with the pool table,” Eddie flips through, “Speaking of which, is there any good bars around here? I haven’t been to one in forever.” 

“You’ve got yourself a date,” Buck jumps to his feet, startling the other, “There’s a really shitty karaoke bar that I go to with the others. They have a pool table, hot bartenders and Karen can get us a good discount since her best friend works there.” 

That reminds Eddie of the inquiry he had earlier in the dorm. “By the way, who is Karen?” 

“Hen’s girlfriend,” Buck clears his throat. A flash of awareness crosses Eddie’s mind, creeping into his darkened expression, but the other misreads it. “...Cool with that?” 

Eddie’s realization turns to panic at the thought he looked mildly homophobic, “O-of course,” he stutters, turning attention back to the script below them. 

“Good, cause I’m bisexual,” Buck shoots him some finger guns, “Most theater kids are at least a little gay. We’re all so damn dramatic. I think Chim is the only straight man in the entire program.” 

Eddie finds that hilarious, “Thanks for telling me. I would’ve never guessed Chim is the token heterosexual,” he fiddles with the paper, “Until now.” 

The look on Buck’s face shifts mildly, then he recovers, “You can call me Evan, if you’d like. Only if you keep helping me. I didn’t even show you the marching dance that time.” 

“Well then,” Eddie startles out of the mood, “Dance, Evan.”


	2. Rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they act. they bake. they think way too much.

Maddie picks fast-forward and rewind to start the next meetings, much to the disdain of her brother, who is still vying for his personal favorite park bench. The game consists of putting together a scene while Professor Nash, seated in the front row, gives directions of whether to accelerate the actions or go backwards. She brings everyone in for a huddle, where Bobby can’t hear anything.

“Okay guys,” she starts, “I think we should do a hospital scene.”

“Gag,” Chim interjects, “That’s the nursing major in you.”

“It’ll be interesting, promise,” Maddie counters, “I think we should do a birthing scenario.”

Everyone commenced into childish giggles at the suggestion.

“Aye aye, captain,” Hen salutes, and they break.

Eddie exits stage left, then reenters.

“How are the contractions, Miss...” he looks around, only seeing Chim pretending to be an aid beside her, “Han.”

Bobby puts his head in his hands.

Maddie bats an eye.

“Alright,” she starts, “They are slowing down.”

“Fast forward!” Bobby calls out.

“I think the baby is coming!” Maddie screams, gripping the makeshift bed for assistance. They formulated a dusty, old rocking chair as the mattress, with Hen on her other side.

“Doctor!” Hen shouted, pretending to hook up Maddie to numerous machines. “We need you! Push!”

A frantic Eddie rushes over, nervously glancing at an invisible chart, “Shit, you were supposed to be due three months from now.” Maddie screamed, echoes reverberating in the theater.

“Rewind,” Bobby gets louder.

Eddie retreats backwards, as Hen and Chim tuck Maddie into the chair with a blanket that has been behind in storage for god knows how long. It smells weird. She coughs.

“Welcome to your sixth month checkup, Mrs. Han,” he continues, “The baby looks fine, maybe just a bit too big.”

Buck, on stage right, cries in the worst baby impression possible.

“I think we can hear your baby,” Chim coughs, registering the situation, “Sounds manly.”

Buck lets out another pathetic attempt of wailing nonsense.

“Fast forward,” Bobby sighs.

They scramble, and Eddie eyes behind the chair after making contact with Buck. Getting the signal, the other crouches behind the wooden seating.

“It’s coming out, push!” Eddie yells, Maddie tearfully groans, producing actual water form the ducts. What an impressive sight.

“What’s up, bitches,” the grown man emerges from behind the chair. Maddie’s character passes out into Chim’s arms dramatically.

“Looks like the baby isn’t premature...he’s mature all right,” Hen rolls her eyes.

“We’ll use him as a test subject,” Eddie plays off of the other, going to feel his arms as a checkup, “The superhuman child,” he tests.

“Scene,” Bobby snaps.

Pulling away, Eddie surveys the other, who has committed fully to the part. While the people on stage were toiling away, Buck went to the back and found a pacifier. He spits it out, rolling the prop on the ground. Chim keels over on the floor, letting a genuine chuckle control his bodily movements.

“That was something,” Bobby leans on the wooden platform, amused crinkle in his brow.

Meanwhile, Maddie is wiping the tears from her eyes. She fist bumps Hen.

After a couple combined sessions of humorous exploration, their time draws to a close. Professor Nash gathers the five actors together for closing remarks.

“Good job today,” he takes the pencil from behind his ear, “Now, since we have a solid thing going, I really want us to expand as a group. You are all doing exceedingly well; it’s only fair we put on an improv show with a real audience.”

“Shit, really?” Buck incredulously slaps his knee.

“Am I the only one who came to your table the other day?” Eddie carefully interrupts, taking in the expressions of those around him, “That whole place was mobbed, yet Buck was the only one at the table. I didn’t even see a sign-up sheet. Just gave him my number.”

“Well,” Bobby answered, “You were. I think others were interested in things like Greek fraternities and activism groups, which is fine, but no one really pays attention to the arts here. It’s sad. Before being an acting professor, I did stuff like ice skating, so I get why colleges cater to sports. But at least we have this. They wouldn’t give me the okay for a baking club, either. Said it was too similar to culinary club.”

“Ah...” Eddie trailed off. “How do you suppose we get more people, then?”

“We need a fundraiser,” Hen suggested, “Park ourselves in a popular spot, serve them some eye candy and food, then voila.”

“True,” Maddie agrees, “We could start bringing snacks to each meeting. People will join. Maybe if there’s an incentive, we can round up enough people to make us more official.”

“I’m down,” Chim says, “Where do we start?”

* * *

Bobby sweet talked Athena into giving him the keys for the cafeteria, initiating a late-night excursion to take place when the actual staff had gone home. One by one, they filed into the expansive kitchen, marveling at the amenities. Their dorms were downright depressing when compared to the multiple burners, silverware and overall cleanliness of the college facility.

“So, what are we making?” Buck asked, noticing a lack of ingredients on the counters.

“Cupcakes,” Bobby slid in past the grey doors last, humongous bag in tow, “Let’s get started.”

They had fun, assembling the recipe and singing. Hen had a lovely voice, really showing them all to be theater lovers at heart. Touting songs from Les Miserables, Wicked, and Mary Poppins, the group split up into sections of doing various tasks. Maddie and Hen worked on the icing, Bobby and Chim did the dry ingredients, while Eddie and Buck oversaw the wet mixture. Following the handwritten note of Bobby’s own volition, the harmony at which the club moved made the familial aspect grow stronger.

Eddie looked up from the measurements to see Buck smiling from beside him, the two touching shoulder-to-shoulder. He playfully bumped back, dropping the tablespoons in the process. Chim snickered.

“Having fun?” Buck winked, “Bet you thought this was not going to happen when you chose this table over the culinary club.”

He suddenly remembered what he had forgotten about the activity day, for a moment. When his legs took him down the trodden path, other ventures simply did not capture his gaze. However, what started the aversion from the cooking table was seeing his ex-girlfriend, Shannon, handing out the fliers. Doing a one-hundred-eighty degrees spin, Diaz almost knocked straight into the last table for the meager improv club’s display. Buck, finding the explosion of emotions hilarious, entranced the other.

“With faces like that, you should join the improv club,” he slid a paper over.

It only had his number.

“I don’t mind it,” he sighed, “Anyways, how’s your rendition of Seventy-Six Trombones going? Haven’t seen it since last week.”

“Looking for my Marianne,” Buck feigned a lovey dovey voice, “Nah, it’s fine. I keep misstepping on the second verse, though.”

“Maybe we should all switch to culinary majors,” Chim cuts in, flour in his hair, “Bobby, we’re doing alright?”

The professor, covered himself, hummed a response.

“How old are you anyways, Bobby?” Maddie inquired, mixing blue food coloring into a pink bowl, “You can’t be that much older than us.”

“Don’t act like you guys are the only people I hang out with,” he jokes, “I’d like to think that I am the captain of this ship, but mainly because Buck approached me asking to be the professor who organizes everything. You are my weird team of students who don’t leave me alone. One cannot exist without the other.”

“If I were you, I’d marry Athena and whisk her away from this shitty school,” Chim mentions, “No way you guys would want to be here forever.”

“Teaching is my passion and protecting is hers. Right, Diaz?”

Getting what he meant, Eddie formed his mouth into a straight line, “Suppose so, profesor.”

The cupcakes turned out wonderfully, and the palpable shock is felt throughout the group. No one doubted Professor Nash’s abilities, of course, but highly expected their own to pale in comparison. Taking them home to set, Bobby thanks them all for the combined effort. Hen and Maddie head back to their building, as Chim and Buck turn in the direction of theirs. Eddie, the lone wolf, looks on as they catch the moonlight.

The youngest of the bunch feels heated eyes on his neck, maneuvering into visibility, “...Eddie, man, you want to join us for a couple beers?”

“I probably should shower off the raw egg Maddie dropped on my shoe, and consequently, my foot,” he shrugs.

“Aw, c’mon,” Chim whines, “Drunk Buck is the best.”

“I’m not getting plastered, man,” Buck bites back, “I’ll pay for a pizza. Let’s have a guy’s night.”

That offer did sound tempting, even with Eddie partially dressed in residual yolk from the experimental baking expenditure. He catches up to them with a light jog, then follows the duo through their dorm building, past the security doors and up the flights of stairs. A relatively small college, most of the dorms are for two people, rather than four as is accustomed elsewhere. The main area is a combination of a kitchenette, one bathroom and splits off into two different bedrooms. The design is a little different than the ones Eddie lives in, with its own charm to it and probably its own set of problems. He squashes a roach under his foot, hearing the crunch.

“Home sweet home,” Chim hops on the couch, “We have the second-nicest building on campus. Besides the cockroach infestation. That started when Josh down the hall let food rot in his trash can for a month.”

“Others say it’s because he spilled lube, since roaches like moisture,” Buck juxtaposed, “Except I have no solid proof for that.”

Eddie laughed, adjusting himself on the same outstretched sofa. Talking about anything and everything, they drink a couple beers, eat a pepperoni pizza, and are crashing down from exhaustion in a good couple hours from the club baking session. Chim turns off the game, heading to his room, before tapping Buck on the shoulder.

“Tell him he can stay here,” Chim mumbles, waddling off to the sweet lull of sleep.

Buck makes a weird noise of acknowledgement, then turns to an equally heavy-eyed Eddie slumped over beside him. “D’you wanna stay? I’ll give you the bed.”

“No, I’ll take the couch,” he counters, “Already here.”

“Wait,” Buck stops, “Fuck, I forgot to practice the song tonight. It’s too late to sing.”

He blinks away sleep, “Evan, if you want to sing, I’ll listen.”

“Chim is passed out, though,” Buck bites his lip, “What if I do the dance?”

“Are you coordinated enough for that?” Eddie stifles a commanding laugh, “You had three beers and almost fell asleep on top of me.”

“Look, you’re the one who’s super comfy, I don’t wanna hear it,” he raises his hands, “I’m gonna dance. But you have to dance next to me. There were horn-y of ev'ry shape and kind...”

Eddie abandoned the idea of silence to make sure his ears heard right, “What’d you say?”

“Horns of ev’ry shape and kind.”

“Dude, you said horny,” Eddie rolled into a pillow, “Clearly, this is not on your mind right now.”

“Maybe I’m horny,” Buck shrugged, “Maybe I’m a bit drunk, too.”

“Really?” Eddie roared, “Let’s get you to bed. I can hold my liquor much more than you. If we do go to that bar you were talking about, I’d have to peel you off the pool table.”

“Okay,” Buck softened, “Will you lay next to me?”

A quizzical look overtook the older’s face, “Like...as friends?”

“Sure, as friends,” Buck looked exasperated. “I get clingy when I’m drunk. I need a Marianne. We won’t cuddle, don’t worry. Also...there’s a huge cockroach on the couch behind you. I just didn’t want to tell you.” Eddie yelped, leaping up from the diseased furniture. Sure enough, the biggest bug he’d ever seen was perched on the arm rest. “Told you.”

“Let’s go,” Eddie shuffled to the room opposite Chim’s, taking in the sight of a messy bed surrounded by a wardrobe graveyard. Not entirely shocking, but a nuisance nonetheless as he had to lead Buck through there before dodging the clothes on the floor to get over to the other side. Settling in, he took the one pillow and readjusted.

“Goodnight Eddie,” Buck slurred, “Tomorrow I’ll go back to acting like I don’t like you.”

Under the light pooling from the back window, Eddie’s face heated. Diaz didn’t know if that was supposed to be an internal dialogue, except it definitely came out externally. He curled further into the sheets.

Was Buck just joking? Eddie had never really considered his sexuality before. Why would he? As a kid, he was surrounded by sisters who all gave him acquaintances of theirs to date, but he never found anything in common with them. When he went into the army at eighteen, he had no experiences. Being a medic was a tough, taxing job, and there was no time for romance.

Shannon, however, was the exception. She met him through his closest friend from the army, and they had a brief fling once he came back to Los Angeles. He broke up with her at the realization he needed to go back to school full-time and couldn’t be concerned with a budding relationship when studies should have been a top priority. Last thing he heard, Shannon had actually started dating the friend from the army, breaking up his marriage in the process. None of them had talked since.

Despite this, he felt immense guilt running into her on campus. She must’ve changed schools, that or Eddie was too focused on the future to remember what college she was enrolled in. Dumb luck brought them to the same fucking place, out of all of California, but then he ran into Buck. Almost literally. That smile was beautiful, knowing, and mischievous.

Was he gay? He thought through the options. At the end of the day, he frankly did not care; what mattered more was dissecting the complex feelings Buck stirred in his heart. Seeing him onstage made Eddie want to be his acting partner. Or did he want more too?

Before he could keep thinking, sleep took him hostage, away to a distant dreamland.


	3. Park Bench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get down to business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the short but sweet ending! let me know what you think as we all recover from monday's ep

“Finally, park bench,” Buck rubbed his palms together, “Eddie, you're up.” 

“That's not fair,” Chim called, then went silent as Hen gave him a stern look. Bobby, at the center of it all, gave the go ahead through a hand movement. 

He pulled a newspaper out from his back pocket, a crinkled edition of the Los Angeles Times. The title had been blacked out with a sharpie, clearly from eons ago. Probably another relic from backstage, Eddie thought as the other brought a stuffy smelling print to his nose. Scrutinizing the worn text, he wondered why the other loved this game so much. 

“I have a fungus on my foot,” Eddie took off his shoe, face contorting at the falsified smell, “Would you like to touch it?” 

Buck sat, gingerly flipping through the pages. 

“You know, I think it's spread to my hands,” Eddie pats him on the back, “They say it's contagious.” 

“I'm immune to ninety-nine percent of diseases,” Buck retorts, faking a focus, “They say it's because I'm part of the biological elite.” 

Eddie rethinks the strategy, pausing. 

“The other day I kidnapped a girl,” he continues, “If you strain your eyes a bit, you can hear her screaming from my basement.” 

“What the fuck?” Maddie sounds. “Buck, he's saying some fucked up shit. What would it take to get you to budge?” 

Buck crossed his legs, much to the disappointment of his group members. Eddie, lost on what to do, listens to his gut feeling. 

He leans, pecking Buck’s cheek. The other almost falls off the bench, sending a flurry of papers in his wake. The whole audience is hooting, shouting and whistling. Hen is sure Chim might faint. 

“Dude, what the-” Buck recovers, blushing red, “I thought we were relying on verbal stuff.” 

“I got you off the bench, didn't I?” Eddie beams. 

“Hate to interrupt, but I think that is against the rules,” Bobby wags a finger, “Diaz, 

Buckley, get down here. Maddie, Chim, you're up.” 

All the circulation is coloring Buck’s cheeks, crimson against the fair shade of his skin, only stopping where the birthmarks lies. He stomps down the stairs, pulling Eddie with him. 

“Come with me,” he grumbles. 

“Sure thing,” Eddie cockily swaggers behind. 

In the distant, he hears someone mention something about a bet. He doesn't care 

enough to dictate the difference in voices. 

“Eddie, don’t play games with me,” Buck starts, going in circles a bit. They're in the hallway, accompanied by the light glow of a nearby vending machine. 

“I thought you wanted to play park bench,” Eddie goes to tease, then notices Buck isn't laughing. “Uh, what did you mean?” 

“You kissed me!” Buck comes back, “In front of everyone. I think you owe me an explanation.” 

This is the moment he failed to think about. 

“Aren't you straight?” he kept pressing, “Because I'm really starting to like you, and it's killing me that you find it funny.” 

“I...” Eddie drifts off. Buck is on the bridge of fuming, ears harshened by the blow of the other’s words. He’s...cute. Cuter than Shannon ever looked. He might be decent at improv, but he can't think on his feet right now. 

“Well?” Buck stomps. 

“I really like you too, and I don't think I'm straight,” he blurts out, “I don't know what I am. I'm attracted to you. I like improvisation, but I probably joined because you smile like an angel.” 

Buck blinks, “Woah.” 

“Yeah.” 

“That's gay,” Buck snorts, “Just kidding. I can help you figure that out, but you have to pay the toll first. I need a real kiss that isn't under the guise of an acting game.” 

Eddie crosses his arms, “Sure, Evan.” 

They kiss, for real this time, and it's electric. Better than anything before, for both of them. Buck’s lips curl into a smile as they meet Eddie’s, the other angling his jaw upwards with a free hand on the wall across them. 

“How do we go back in there without them knowing,” Buck realizes, a little too late. 

“Oh, I think they already know.” Eddie pulls away, swiping a tongue along his bottom lip to savor the remnants of Evan’s taste. 

“Then let's brag about it,” Buck pulls his arm to go back into the theater, where the scene abruptly stops onstage. 

“Fucking finally!” Hen calls. 

“Boys, you better remember we still have half an hour left of the club, so don't get any ideas,” Bobby mocks, in his fatherly tone. 

“Now all we need is one more couple,” Buck fights back while hinting at Chim and Maddie, who are on the bench together. 

“This is improv, not match making,” Bobby exhales, pleased anyways. 

That’s when Edmundo Diaz and Evan Buckley began officially dating, which was also the last practice with the original group, as the cupcake sales bring in a trickle of new people. They eventually get around to putting on a show, but not before Eddie sang “Goodnight My Someone” from The Music Man, per special request. Years later, the fire captain is sitting in the front row of a theater, clutching his son Christopher’s hand as they wait for Buck to go onstage in his leading role of the newest live show. The lights grow dim, and a spotlight shines on the man he loves. He freezes...simply awestruck at the love they have fostered since college.


End file.
